


Defying Gravity

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, M/M, Matthijs is broken, although...., rooftop chilling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-06 17:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: Together, they were unlimited.





	Defying Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> It's just a reference to the song "Defying Gravity" from the musical "Wicked".

Frenkie's hair always smelled of something _peculiar,_ and the smell, along with the hair itself getting in Matthijs face when he pressed a soft kiss on top of Frenkie's head, was just part of who Frenkie was. Whenever his hair got all fluffy in the wind, Matthijs couldn't help but smile. Frenkie still had something of a child in him.

He loved Frenkie and he loved the smell of his hair. Frenk has always taunted him about it playfully, when they got back in the hotel or when they were sat side by side on the bus on their way back from a game. "During the celebration, you were sniffing my hair again," he would laugh. "Creep." Nothing ever sounded more loving and playful than this. Frenk called him _a creep_ and mocked him for this obsession while snuggling closer to him in the bed. Matt didn't mind it at all. He only cared about the fluffy blond hair that was so pleasant to bury his face into.

Frenk's height was also perfect for this; it was almost as if they were made for this, and they fit together like a glove. Matthijs - and Frenkie in his embrace. There was nothing more natural and soothing than holding the midfielder in his arms. Frenkie was there, he was there with him, and nothing could separate them. The crazy celebrations, the joy, and cheers, even in the biggest huddle on the pitch - they were always together. And it felt right.

Frenk had something special in him. It was the laughter, the voice, the childlike nature... Matt wasn't sure. He could only stand aside and watch him - watch him play, watch him laugh, watch him grow and watch him outgrow the team. He was a personality and he was ambitious, not at all in a bad way - but Matthijas could see, with a certain hint of jealousy and pain, that Amsterdam and the Dutch league were too small for him. He wasn't just a blond, cheerful kid with a wide smile anymore. He was a personality, someone, Someone with a capital "S", Someone whom even FC Barcelona desired. Someone whom Matthijas once had as a friend, a companion, a playmate - and much more.

"Are you two sold separately?" Donny once joked and Matts had a hard time hiding his blush. After all, they were indeed. That was why the atmosphere of tonight was so suffocating.

Frenkie's apartment was already half-empty - all the decorations, anything that could bring some life and spirit into those rooms, it was all gone. The basic furnishing left behind was like a pitiful reminder of what this apartment is meant for: living. The spirit was gone though, it felt as if the rooms were completely empty. Frenkie offered him a bottle of beer in the midst of his complaints about the moving company he had to deal with while moving away from this apartment for now.

"It looks kinda sad," he nodded towards the emptied shelf next to the TV, handing Matts one of the opened bottles. "Without all the stuff."

"It's so empty," Matthijs agreed.

It was the least he could say about this place. The place where he'd spend so much time in the last year, the place where he practically lived with Frenk for the past two months, the place where he threw away the idea of himself being straight - actually, he burned that idea down and ripped apart his whole past, feeling free to breathe again, reassured by Frenk's kisses. "_This is us_," Frenkie told him the first time they spent a night cuddling on the sofa. "_This is right_."

Frenkie taught him to accept he might not actually be who he used to think he was. Frenkie taught him patience and real love if that was _it_, and Frenkie also taught him to be kind to himself. 

Frenkie always kissed him in the doorway, no matter if they arrived together or if Frenk just opened his door to see him standing behind. A kiss, a smile, kind words, a non-alcoholic beer from the fridge, kisses placed right behind his ear, Frenkie's voice, the whole world reducing itself on the four walls around them - those were the feelings inevitably connected to this place.

And it was gone.

Matthijs' eyes were scanning the room and nothing felt the same anymore. The chair where he would always sit, and sometimes Frenk would come and sit on his lap, teasing him in the worst possible way; the couch where they would spend endless nights cuddling while watching some matches that didn't matter at all; the wall that Frenkie's back knew so well, and he always ended up with a few bruises there when Matt got too carried away with pushing him up against it - this all would now be empty for most of the year. Frenkie decided to keep the apartment for his visits and for the holidays in the homeland. Somehow, to Matthijs, it equaled leaving the apartment forever.

"We should go to the rooftop," Frenk suggested.

"The rooftop?"

"I wanna see the city - "

"Alright."

He knew the view from the rooftop was great. Frenkie took him there a few times, and it felt magical. The beer, the two of them, the privacy while staring at the sun slowly setting over the city_. _Now, it all felt similar, but not the same. The sun has already set anyway, Matthijas thought as he gazed at the night lights. How fitting. It was cold on the rooftop as well, and there wasn't really much space; the whole walkable area consisted only of a few meters squared and looked more like a balcony than a real rooftop terrace. There was no light, except for the dim lamps down on the street.

"I'm gonna miss this view."

"I heard Barcelona is nice. For the views."

Frenkie smirked, leaning against the cold railing with the bottle of beer still in his hand. "Yeah, it probably is." His hair was being messed by the wind again, and this time, it didn't feel endearing and cute to Matts. It was breaking his heart. Frenk was looking down at the streets of the city (_their city_, Matts thought, biting his lip) with a soft smile on his face which was always present as some kind of a trademark. 

"Are you afraid?" Matthijs spoke, eyes glued to that smile.

"Of what? Moving there? Or playing there?"

"Of being a Barcelona player."

Frenk smirked, shaking his head. "It's all or nothing," he admitted and took a sip of his beer. "And I feel ready."

"I hope you're happy."

He didn't intend to make it sound reproachful and it still came out of his mouth exactly like that; stone-cold and bitter and slightly jealous, so much that Matthijs himself was horrified how awful it sounded. De Jong turned his head and his eyes studied Matt's face for a moment.

"Matts - "

"And that you won't regret it - "

"I won't." (Matthijs bit his lip again and closed his eyes). "I will only regret that you're not coming with me."

De Ligt exhaled shakily, unable to open his eyes now. There were too many tears coming up.

Frenk placed his bottle carefully on the ground and then touched Matts' shoulder gently in an attempt to make him turn towards him. "You could Matts. You could go as well."

"No, not really. Besides - my agent said - "

"Fuck your agent, Matts." Frenkie's voice was calm as he was almost whispering while rubbing the younger boy's shoulders in a comforting gesture of affection. "Think of us."

Matthijs nodded, sniffing, trying his best to hide the fact that he'd much rather be sobbing right now.

"Think of what we could do - " Frenk was practically shaking him now. "In Barcelona."

Maybe - in a perfect world - where everything would be only about passion for football and them - if nothing else mattered - 

_Fucking agents and stupid demands and club's transfer policies and messages for the press and official statements_ \- 

Frenkie wrapped his hand around Matthijs' waist, pulling him closer without meeting any resistance. "Together," he whispered, looking up in Matts' eyes. Matthijs parted his lips as he felt Frenk's breath on them, the urge to lean in for a kiss grew stronger with every second and yet he didn't want to do it, he just wanted to stay like this for a moment, knowing that Frenk is there, with him, in his arms, soft, smiling and present, he's there, he's still there - he is still with him. He didn't know what to do with the beer in his right hand, he forgot to put it away and now it was preventing him from really holding de Jong with all his might; he awkwardly looked around but there was no convenient place to put it without having to let Frenk go. He just placed the half-empty bottle on the top of the railing, praying for the balance to be enough, and as soon as his both hands were empty, he grabbed Frenk's head, letting his fingers slide in the blonde hair. Frenkie leaned in as if for a kiss but Matts didn't respond to that though their eyes were still locked. He caressed Frenk's temples with his fingers, admiring the face that was perfect to him. Frenkie's eyelashes fluttered. "Kiss me."

Matthijs slowly moved his left hand on the back of Frenk's head while his right one slid down to Frenk's throat. He watched how Frenkie parted his lips, eyes still locked with him, in an unbelievably hot manner - it was like nothing else, watching him from this close, and then he moaned in the softest and quietest way possible. It was the last straw. As much as Matts wanted to hold back and enjoy the moment, this was something that drew him back into the physical, animalistic world - he pulled Frenkie's hair as he kissed him, deep and rough, with all the held-back passion and lust. Their tongues and teeth collided in a messy, sloppy and wet way, Frenkie's hands were suddenly at his back, rubbing it up and down, and he gasped into the kiss when Matts used his left hand to grab Frenk's butt without warning and press him closer to his own body, heated with the passionate kiss. Frenkie bit him in the lower lip, mumbling something like '_fuck_' when he rubbed against his half-boner, and the world felt like spinning. 

Frenkie's fingers worked fast on his zip and the button of Matts' jeans without even breaking the kiss; he pushed Matts against the railing and got his knee in between his legs and Matthijs threw his back, realizing there's nothing behind him - the railing was just up to his waist. The sudden realization gave him a nauseous feeling of being too close to a free fall, he frantically grabbed Frenkie's arms in panic, fearing the height and fearing the void, the empty space and the absence of anything safe and secure behind him. It felt like his whole world swung violently without warning, as did his insides; and the passionate kiss turned into a nightmare._ Is this what acrophobia feels like? Is that what it is all about? Or is it - about Frenk?_

He's never been afraid of heights. He loved the view from here, and he loved Frenk, and he wanted to be with Frenk, he wanted to enjoy this moment with him and he was ready but - 

He felt the cold sweat all over his body and he tried to push Frenkie away to free himself, to be able to breathe and to get somewhere safer but Frenk didn't seem to understand, he licked into his mouth while sliding his hand in Matts' pants. Matthijs wanted to scream but could hardly even catch his breath, and as his chest tightened with panic, he tried to push Frenk away again when he heard the sound of shattering glass, he pushed, he kicked, he gasped for air - 

"Shit - " Frenkie panted, backing off and bending a little forward. "What are you doing?"

Matthijs finally caught his breath, feeling the urge to heave ease a little as well as his gagging, he rushed towards the wall, safer side of the rooftop, but his feet were so weak he was practically crawling there, with his pants' fly open. He was shaking.

_Oh God. Oh God. Oh God._ He was safe. He touched the wall, the floor, the solid material of it, and the world wasn't spinning anymore, he wasn't sick, he was safe. He fucking kicked Frenkie. Oh God, what's wrong with him? He's never felt as terrified as he did a while ago - and it wasn't just the missing railing - 

He crouched down by the wall and hid his face in his hands. 

"Matts - Matts, what's wrong?"

_What's wrong? What's wrong?_ How is he supposed to know? The magic of the moment was gone, and he was on a rooftop overlooking Amsterdam, on the verge of tears, with Frenkie carefully sitting down next to him. 

"Got a bit dizzy, huh?"

His breathing was slowly getting better as well as his heartbeat. "No, it's not just - it's not just some vertigo - "

"Then what is it?" Frenkie touched his forehead, temples and then his cheek as if that was the way to learn his thoughts. 

"I don't know."

He was afraid to say it. Afraid - and even more ashamed, because he couldn't find the right words even when he was trying to form those in his head. The thought of anything sexual now was making him sick. He dared to look up and saw Frenkie's concerned face and as much as he loved him, he couldn't think of doing anything sexual tonight. He just couldn't. Anymore. Maybe he wanted it before, and maybe he even started it - but now, his whole body revolted the idea. Maybe it was the ruined moment - maybe it was the anxiety concerning Frenkie's departure, maybe it was the stress he's felt the whole day over this - He knew how it always went. He came to visit Frenk - they would talk and laugh, joke and get closer and closer - then they would kiss, cuddle and have sex - and then, he would either leave or they would fall asleep together with him leaving in the morning. He didn't want to do it tonight.

He didn't want this to end with either of them leaving.

His mind knew it was a twisted way of thinking, but for him, sex and leaving were always connected. With Frenkie, it was always like that.

"I can't - tonight, I mean - I don't feel like - " Fuck, they are grownups. They should be able to talk about this, no?

Frenkie stroked his cheek, smiling again. "It's okay. We can stay here and just... Watch the city lights."

"Yeah." The inner pain in his chest was almost gone when Frenkie ran a thumb over his lips. "I'm sorry, Frenk," he mumbled.

"It's okay." Frenkie touched his chin and then reached out to grab his bottle of beer that was still standing by the railing. "You can drink mine," he offered, handing the bottle to Matts. "You knocked yours off the railing - I hope it didn't kill anyone down on the street."

Matthijs smirked. Frenkie positioned himself next to him and leaned back against the wall while pulling Matthijs closer. "Lay your head on me," he said, wrapping his hand around Matts' waist again in a relaxed manner. 

And Matthijs listened. He exhaled and let his head rest on Frenk's shoulder. 

The world was still in order. The rooftop, the beer, the privacy - and the two of them.


End file.
